Ugh!
by typicalRAinbow
Summary: Sickie fic: A bout of sniffles has hit the school and everyone'snot happy. While her Miss Drill is ill, Miss Hardbroom on the other hand is feeling perfectly fine, if stuck playing Nurse. (first uploaded attempt at HB/Drill so hope it works)
1. Chapter 1

I love writing HB and the staff arguing. It amuses me no end coming up with insults for her to exchange but even though it's not my forte, fluffy sappy romance is my other amusement, though this is first time writing it outside the occasional peck on the cheek in Mary Poppins ff. Coming up hideously cheesy pet names that they would realistically probably despise me for was fun too. Rated T for a few cheeky comments and foul words but too Mills and Swoon I mean Boon. Also, there might be some spelling and grammar errors, even more then normal feel free to tell and I'll get them fixed. Hope you enjoy it *hides*

_"Well, you can't get what you want, but you can get me/So let's set up and see…_

_ 'Cause you are my medicine/ When you're close to me ._

_ When you're close to me…"_

_(GORILLAZ On Melancholy Hill)_

* * *

If anyone was too be found out of bed scuttling upstairs at Overblow Castle, the poor girl in question would have probably stuffed her ears with cotton wool so there would be no point shouting at her to get back to bed. Poor thing was sick to death of the continuous headache causing sound of nauseous wheezing coughing sniffling moaning groaning and even a little bit of dry wrenching and oozing feeling the dorms.

A total contrast then to whereas downstairs, the usual hive of activity encased in classrooms, was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. Or a deputy head quietly muttering to herself. Miss Hardbroom wasn't going crazy... well, as of yet. Far from it she liked to think herself as the most sensible member of staff. She just currently had no one to complain aloud too, as they all upstairs. So left alone to her own devices in the lab, Constance let a something between a sigh and a snort of annoyance that would have earned a pupil a hundred lines of "I must not make inappropriate inpatient and impenitent noises in class."

Potions, as she taught and believed, required the right ingredients and a large helping of patience. But she was fairly quickly running out of both.

"I'm sure I had more Bramble root left over then that." she complained quietly putting the jar away. She returned to the thick volume where she'd been quadruple checking the recipe of a cure-all potion she'd known off by heart since her adolescence and looked back up to the benches where five large cauldrons bubbled away, each at different stages of the same said potion. four of which would be total useless until tomorrow or very late this evening if she was lucky, depending on how long it took cool in colder conditions and what time Hogs&Harrocks managed to bother delivering. With everything at the castle coming to a standstill practically overnight, HB hadn't a chance to fully replenish the potion stock herself or enough time to gather and dry honeysuckle leafs or bramble roots, which would be quite a while given dank state of the castle and its woodlands and it didn't help with Miss Bat wasting ingredients with her own remedies.

It also didn't help it was still raining in bucketing gloomy downpour for a sixth day on the trot despite being months after Sir Walter's wet week. It made the castle seem even colder and drauftier then normal. HB didn't notice the small difference really but to her pupils it felt like the beginning of January not the end of March, the especially those unfortunates who'd been cross-countrying when the bad weather hit.

"So much for fresh air and sport being good for your health" she grumbled to no one. Then again with everything going on, if Imogen wasn't sick Constance doubted she'd be able to see her oh-honestly-Imogen-arn't-I-a-bit-old-to-be-called- your-"girl"friend at all. Miss Drill had kept complaining they'd both been so rushed off their feet as late-Well she'd sort of gotten her wish for some time for themselves. It didn't mean either of them had to be grateful...


	2. Chapter 2

A strong smell of well-done petals sticking to the copper bottom of the cauldron brought her back to her senses and Constance busied herself with the last ingredients. Finally there was a pop and a hiss and after what seemed more than it should have taken, the potion was ready. Constance measured it into numerous small bottles, counted out what was needed for the girls plus a couple spare and set the remainder aside to keep for later on. Extinguishing the heat and putting lids on the other left till lukewarm (to let the crushed lavender take effect then being reheated with clean spider webs as the finale pot had been) Constance made sure to lock the door behind her this time and headed upstairs with her bottles all neat in rows for what seemed far more than the third time that day.

Usually there was only one thing worse then a student with flu, and that was an epidemic of students with flu.  
Now Constance had discovered that a school full of sick girls would have been easier to handle, compared to her current situation of not just the bit-more-then-half but not-quite-two-thirds percentage of the students confined to bed.  
Also not only was she playing witch-doctor and trying to make them all better and continuing her normal duties of a deputy and teacher, setting aside work for the sick so them so they could catch when they were better; but Frank, Imogen and Amelia the only three members of staff that Constance could normally rely on even if it was in a very roundabout way, had come down with the virus leaving her as with only Bat and Ms Tapioca (who were both also showing symptoms of coming down ) and the dwindling restless bored and boisterous but otherwise healthy young witches for company managing their classes especially of her form, not effected by illness where getting on with their studies rather than up to mischief.

She'd already had to dispose of a smuggled mini tool kit and bits unknown gadgetry brought in by Ruby; deprived Drusilla of three bags of toffee on three separate occasions ("just where was she getting them from?" Constance thought. "More to the point how on earth was the scrawny girl able to put all that rubbish away?"); confiscate several comics, gossip magazines and an issue of PlayWitch that the girls had studied and not the books they where supposed too have been reading (not just using to hide the banned reading material in-) and frankly, the less said about Fenella and Griselda, the better…

Pests.

It was all enough to make Constance wonder why she'd even bothered becoming a teacher in the first place particularly at a boarding school. Certainly not for the paychecks. Still, she had a duty to uphold.

Starting with the Worst Witch then moving down the dorms, Constance made an impressive sight as always, striding down the corridors in upright matronly fashion despite the black leather-like dress and the bat emblazoned across the chest of her apron. The tray of remedy potions floating along obediently behind her, as one cannot stride or operate locked doors with an armfuls of jingling glass bottles.

She spent the next hour and a half making sure Mildred had drunken plenty of water, ignoring Crowfeather's whining in favour treating Jadu's migraine and putting down Ethel threats of what'd happen when-her-father-heard-about-this as feverous disillusions. She also shooed a worried Maud from skulking around her friends room's deciding an essay would help in reminding the girl she was not immune, found someone to cover for Mr Blossom's cleaning duties on discovering Enid was faking the flu with a mild touch of self-administered magic lurgy, argued with Ms Tapioca whether it was really necessary to take a rather amused Amelia a slice of cheese cake with every cup of tea and pointed out she ort to be making a start on lunch rather than fussing over Frank or any 'Bambinos' and tried to reassure Miss Bat they where not going to all die a horrible death nor where they suffering from the plague. She tried, then gave up very quickly!); along with summoning drinks and compresses for those who needed it, Subtly fluffing pillows, magically sealing rooms that where too drafty and replenishing blankets to threadbare to aid bed rest.

Not that she'd tell anyone about that last bit of course, couldn't have the girls thinking she was going soft on them because they were sick...


	3. Chapter 3

Twenty seven down and one to go. With the last bottle of potion for a gym loving lover, Constance thought smirking at her own little joke, hoping the other two members of staff wouldn't fall ill quite just yet if only so it meant she wasn't cooking on top of her other dutyies as well. Constance picked up the singular full vile off the tray and gazed at it, double checking its color and consistency out of habit rather then need.

And yet every time she made to check on Imogen, something else came up. Gloria Newt for example rushing down the hall to inform her Harriet had thrown up or an explosion from the library that sounded suspiciously like the remaining first years getting into bother.

(They had and now had five hundred lines a piece of "Miss Hardbroom doesn't care who did it, under no circumstances I must not lock my self and my classmates in storerooms" a piece and a bill for Sybil's father to cover the cost of repairing the double doors and a book case would be on it's way tomorrow morning.)

Now with the small bottles cool glass against her fingers Constance was finally satisfied she'd done all she could making sure the students were they all were and on the way to recovery slash half convinced she'd done enough and the school was still going to rack and ruinanyway and thought she could have just a minate to herself. That wasn't that indulgent or introvertly unsocial was it?

She compromised, and for thirty whole seconds half forced herself to take deep breaths think calm happy thoughts; as the PE teacher and Miss Cackle had bullied her into taking on board, one of the few things she found actully worked but wasn't going to tell them about her faverote book, crisp fresh snow, Imogen's cheeky grin, the first herb picking of the term, Orcid root, those beautiful green eyes, Morgana by the fireside, how Imogen's hair had accdently turned a pale pink after the bubble gum incident, that time Mildred Hubble got an A on a potions test, the recipe, her and imogen's second kiss, a good cup of tea...

That would do. Time to go see how the fair poor fairly poorly Imogen was fairing. Constance felt a little guilty of not having seen her yet but if she'd seen her first she wouldn't have had the heart to leave her. Of corse the girls came first anyway but if they needed her now after this they could jolly well wait their turn for a change.

Had anyone been watching, they would have seen their teacher push herself of the wall she'd been leaning on and with wave of hand see the empty bottles on the tray suddenly replaced with a cup of tea on a saucer, place the potion bottle down along side it before HB vanished, reappering at Imogen drill's quarters where the door had been left ajar. Of corse no one did see as Constance always double-double checked she wasn't being followed.


	4. Chapter 4

Constance knocked gently as she entered the bedroom, the tray nudging it's way in after before Constance closed the door behind her, briskly as ever but a lot more quietly then normal. Even so the click of the latch was enough to cause Imogen to stir.

"Const-? That you?" she mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes and rolling on to her side.

"Who else?" the witch retorted in a half whisper, hitching her skirts up to as to step over the yoga mat; the tray floating ahead, setting it's self on the bedcide table and the teeting pile of sports magazines, half-read books and assembled junk collenion a bedside table acquires. "sorry I didn't mean to wake you, I could come back later if you wish-"

"I couldn't sleep anyway," Imogen yawned pushing her self up from the pillows wiping her nose with a fist full tissues, sitting up in bed with a charterisic (if half asleep) half smile although it didn't dazzle as normal. "Good day, Honey? Everyone behaving themselves?"

"No." Constance sniffed taking a seat by the bed as well as Imogen's free hand in hers and promising that today she wouldn't complain at the PE teacher calling her by petnames. Probally the least Imogen deserved. a careful once over look showed despite the slight red tinge to her nose and eyes, underneth the dubled over dublesized duvet Imogen had had the forsight to pack (somehow) from her home or the soft as ababy'sblanket fleecey jumper pulled over her pyjammas both of which were hanging off her sholders seemed baggier then normal. (Only slightly but enough for HB to worry if the gym teacher was losing wieght); Imogen was as pale as her tanned skin would allow. Coupled with the scatchie throat and blocked nose she didn't sound good ethier. All of this Constance processed with in a second of sitting down.

"how are you?" Constance asked tentivly. "Dare I hope-?"

Her hopes (and slightly sarcastic questioning) where dashed as Imogen attempeted to awncer but suddenly began coughing and Sneezing in to one of multible Keenexs. Constance cringed slightly and lightly rubbed her on the back, her lace hanky chief momentarily covering her own mouth.

"Bloody awful." Was all Imogen was able to say in-between coughs before collapsing back on to the pillows with a frustrated groan. "I'm all hot -Ow! Constance please don't- hot an' sore."

"you do sound dreadful." Constance replyed, popping a thermometer into her sweet hearts normally well-spoken mouth and feeling her forehead and cheeks, wishing to find some sign of improvement as she let the back of her hand linger a few moments longer then really necessary, "and not just your foul language. That'll teach you for going running in the rain without a coat."

"How am I to know if and when the weather reports going to be wrong?" Imogen grumbled. which was actually very hard to do with such devise clicking against her teeth. she absently reached up and gave the witches hand a squeeze as the themoitor was removed, frowned at then vanished. "Bet it's a wizards fault. You shouldn't catch stupid colds in the middle of summer term."


	5. Chapter 5

"It's not a cold, it's the flu." Constance scolded leaning her elbows on the matress, as Miss Drill made herself more comfortable . "And as for cross country in the rain-"

"Boo, it wasn't supposed to be cloudy alone let alone stormy ." Imogen snapped, pulling the duvet up in an attempt to keep the chill from her neck and ears, knowing she was in for a lecture. She was right.

"That's not the point." Constance reprimanded. Again. "You were already coming down with the flu- don't look at me like that Imogen you know you where- and yet you still took a few silly paraceatmol and then the remaining girls out for an outdoor survial lesson. You came back dripping wet then went strait from the staffroom to your next lesson, even though you let the girls get changed and rearranged your next lesson to be indoors. "

"Alright alright don't remind me. You just keep up with nagging and taking the moral highroad know it all mickey, Hardbroom. karma will come and-" Imogen statred, sitting up and paused to sneeze.

"bless you."

"thank you. But you just keep taking the mickey Hardbroom, karma will come and knock you off your broomstick."

"Karma can try but I can assure you, it sharen't suceed." Constance smirked giving Imogen's pink nose a playful little tap earning her that little scowl. She still wasn't quite sure what it was about the non-witch that would occasionally made her act in little spontaious bursts so diverly from the image she'd moulded her self into over her lifetime. Even when Imogen was being dramatic, screwing her eyes tight shut and crashishing back on the bed in a huff. "I've earned far to many brownie points but-" Constance said leaning over to tuck her back in to bed, "Unlike you I know There's a diffrence admirably soldiering on and just being a fool on the edge of collapse."

"I don't believe that at all, Miss Cackle has to bully you into taking days off."

"That's different-"

"Of corse it is-" the blonde sniffeld.

"What I mean is, if you'd not insisted on trying to ignore it and carry on in sopping wet clothes then you wouldn't have made matters worse for yourself -"

"you weren't complaining at the time," Miss Drill muttered, loud enough to be heard and for the potions teacher to decline comment on wet tshirts. She opened her eyes stiffly.

"…how are they?"

"I assume you mean the students." Imogen nodded and made to sit up again. Constance rolled her eyes but helped her up. Rather unnecessary really but so was leaving her hang stroking the back of Imogen's neck and she still did that.

"The girls will survive. No vast improvement as of yet but the some of the third years almost fully recovered. They just have aches pains and headaches rather than a full blown virus. But seems to be the rest of staff who are taking their time getting better-"

"I didn't bloody choose to get sick!"

"I know you didn't. And that wasn't a dig at you, I did say rest of staff. quite clearly. Mr Blossom's come down with it too."

"I was helping out until you bullied me back to bed- oh, right. Really? I'm sure they don't mean too. Poor Frank."

"Hmm Miss Cackle and Mr Blossom seem to be taking full advantage of bed rest and Mrs Tapioca's is hardly helping."

"Must be your brilliant bedside manner." This could have been an innocent offhand coment but Constance caught the flicked flirty look in her girlfriend's eyes. "stop me feeling awful and I'll happyly be able to help you out, Nurse."

"Not in that way, for goodness sake Miss Drill! Must you start playing around with unessary and poor excuses for inuendos now?"

Imogen huffed and shifted out of the witches reach pulling the blankets up and over her head. "Imogen- Don't be difficult, my dear."

A rude salute was the only response she got before Imogen returned to turtle mode.

"That's not only rude but childish too." Constance sighed with a roll of her eyes, getting up and Sitting back down next to ball on the bed. "Imogen come out from there I didn't mean to snap. well not so loud at any rate." the duvet turtle hesitated then shuffed closer. "I'm not going to hold a convosation with your bedlinen."

The witch tried to push her back and Imogen complied rolling over back onto her back, her little blonde spikes emergered from the blankets now wrapped around her sleeping bag style.

"Fiiiine I'm moving. Guess it wasn't needed." She muffled curling around the witch pulling herself out a little futher. "if it wasn't needed what are you grinning then?"

"You, obvisiouly." She chuckled stroking the blonde hair. "you're in a tangle with your sheets you look a sausage roll... or a caterpilliar."

"Great." Imogen scowled, shiftingon to her sidewriggling one arm free with a jab. "As if I didn't feel bad enough I'm now being compared to a Greggs' pastrie."

"Or a catterpiller." The witch reiterated. "A rather pretty caterpilliar i might add."

"Oh Cons- bug off!" Imogen sniffed with a smile, one that Constance was glad to see and returned it, finding a sparkle in those sleepy green eyes if only for a moment. Taking one of Drill's hand in hers again She let her other continue move over the yellow hair making her movements more gentle; stroking walm cheeks, the soft skin up and down her toned arm and back, thinking how she could happily drown in those damn eyes…


	6. Chapter 6

Imogen suddenly tensed and the brunette flinched worried she'd hurt her somehow. Normally such attention from Constance was rare and so cherished and relished. but now rather than preening Imogen winced and squirmed-

"You're uncomfortable." Constance said stating the obvious and felt her lovers fore head.

"I'm fine." Imogen lied and was subseently glared at. "Alright, maybe a bit." she muttered, stretching out her legs so they hung sideways off the bed. Constance failed to see how that made it any better. "it's not you, love I'm just- just sore. Could never be cause of you."

"Be because of. Even when dying from influwena you're still a grammatically incorrect romantic."

Imogen rolled over (well her top half anyway) and dropped herself about the witches hips with a groan. "Can't you just kiss it better now?" she mumbled into the dress.

"Metoricafolly or do you mean magic everything better? Well I could but that'd mean not only you moving from your oh so apperntly compy spot but also you passing on the virus and then there's repocussion of the foster effect. Not to mention explaining to everyone why you get special treatment. And then I'll get sick as well so I sharn't." Imogen's sudden disbelieving look was met with an arched eyebrow. "Sorry. You can kiss me when you're better so the sooner you recover the sooner I'll kiss you. How's that for an insentive?"

"Awful." Imogen replied agast, "Not even one...? Not even if I add that I always like the apron looks. Did you wear it especially for me?"

Constance jerked, much to a snickering Imogen's amusement and twisted around to swat away the non witches wandering hand.

"Off! I'm not kissing you and making it all better! If I kiss you it'll be all well and good for two minates-"

"only two?"

"Until suddenly I come down with this godforsaken virus, what if I get sick from kissing you?"

"If you do we could share a sick bed that's what couples do." Imogen flipping back to her previous postion. "My god, if you're so sure that you're not going to get sick being here and helping around the castle-!"

"I'm not kissing you."

"Oh for fu-aachtiso! Ugh-Sake."

"Bless you. And I'm defiantly not kissing you now."

Imogen gave her another sniffle scowl over the top of the tissue and then changed her tune. "Actually, I take it back. Your right No kisses no making magic- please don't get sick."

"If you're trying to use reverse psychology, that isn't going to work."

"No, just don't want you catch this flu bug. You wouldn't like it."

"Really? You do surprise me."

"I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Not even Mr Shallow Hallow or Heliboring."

"They'd be even more irratining then useal." the witch mused and turned back with something akin to a fond smirk. "you're the only woman I know who'll use nicknames as curses and viseversa."

"Shut up Hotstuff." Imogen grumbled in to the duvet "Ooh my head. I'm sick of being sick! It isn't fair, I eat healthily, I exercise, I wrap up warm, I even take extra vitiams-"

"I know, sweet, I know." Constance sighed deciding not to point out Imogen's early Karma remarks. She could save that for when Imogen was less bedridden.

"I want to go for a run but my legs feel like lead! I want to go back to work-!" Imogen complained as she sat up, only to flop back the other way face first in to the pillows. "Scratch that," she continued if somewhat muffled. "I just want to sleep and be able to use my head again."

"Again? I wasn't aware you were using it at all." a pillow would have hit Constance square in the face had she not vanished, reappearing in the chair. "Missed. Dear me, your marksmenship certaintly been handicapped. do you also want a drink or another blanket added to you list of demands along with skipping though the woods-?"

"Oh shut up or go away Constance I'm not in the mood!" Imogen snapped burying her head in bedding again preceeding to sulk all of thirty seconds.

"…Silent treatments not going to work either HB."

"…Alright I'm sorry okay? I shouldn't have snapped…"

"…Don't you start sulking too or we're stuck.."

"...Look Constance I-" But Miss Hardbroom was not there. "-I didn't mean it… HoneyBear? Constance?"

She wasn't even invisibly not there. She was officially not there. And Imogen was left sat curled up in bed, cursing and cold, feeling very sick and retchard indeed...


	7. Chapter 7

**Looking through previous chapters I didn't realise I'd made and missed that many mistakes, will work on cleaning them up as soon as I can.**

When the witch reappeared she found Imogen in a rather pitiful state, rubbing at her eyes like a child and sniffling loudly. She herself was feeling a little tiny twinge for leaving her on her own like that, a twinge she was stubbornly trying to ignore. It hadn't been that long, she'd done a quick patrol of the corridors, shouted a third year and a quick visit to the kitchens. Not even an hour, not long at all.

The flash of light made Imogen jump and she quieting down very quickly. Her eyes now even redder and wide with surprise mopping at her face as Constance felt for her forehead again (the temperature rather high for her liking) in her brisk manner and pushing a glass of water in to Imogen's hand.

"Constance-"

"Fluids and vitium c."

"Pardon?"

"Fluids. And vitium c." Miss Hardbroom repeated, gesturing to where a freshly peeled, pithed and segmented orange on a plate sat on the tray where it hadn't sat before. "You're always complaining no one gets enough of either around here."

"oh. Thank you." her patient mumbled, taking a piece. Imogen ate it small slow little bites as though worried about any sudden movements. "I thought you'd- you'd gone."

"I did. But I'm quite clearly back." Constance said sulky.  
"No I mean- never mind." Imogen took gulp of water for non-Dutch Dutch courage and got her act together. "Constance, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. Are you-?"

"You did say and I quote, shut up or go away. Why then ask me so many questions if you wanted me to stop talking, I feel like an incompetent first year."

"No I shouldn't have-"

"No I'm well aware you shouldn't have."

"Can you let me finish a -!"

But Constance interrupted holding up hand for peace and putting her pride aside continued, "But then I shouldn't have wound you up, which under the circumstances was unfair."

Her long fingers stroking Imogen's far too warm cheek. Imogen let her, leaning in to the touch with a sigh.

"Daft witch."

"Silly blonde. And I did say Apology accepted."

"You did not."

"I meant too. If you'd let me get a word in edge ways."

"Hang on-"

"Didn't you say you were sorry?"

"Yes. Twice but I didn't realize you'd gone poof into thin air the first time."

"So then apology accepted. Twice but I don't Poof as you so kindly put it how many more times?"

"A billion." Imogen mumbled innocently insolent. Constance merely rolled her eyes, cupping imogen's face in both hands and giving a little kiss on the fore head. The magic from such an action might relive Imogen's head ache somewhat for few minates and it would lose all effect if she kept doing it at Imogen's request. Instead the gym mistress asked:

"Why are you being nice?"

"I'm not."

"You are. Normally you'd have started shouting and you never forgive me that easily when I've been a prat before."

"Imogen-"Constance sighed, sitting back in the chair. She didn't feel like explaining her self but she still felt awful for their little spat. She didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to see Imogen had certainly been crying in her absence. Sometimes she forgot how sensitive the the stubbon bonde was and stated simply- "You're ill."

"Well done Miss obvious. That's obserlutly no excuse for being a prat and getting special treatment. Unless all the girls are getting kisses."

"You're ill and if you think A I would do such a thing and B if I'm giving you special treatment then you're simply suffering from a fever induced delusion."

"I can't be." Imogen smirked. "There's no pink elephants and you are still in a black dress."

"Pink elephants are for drunks and Davina's cocktails." Constance reminded her. "And what else would I be wearing? And don't you dare say fairy wings and a tutu."

"Or that apron. Just that apron."

"Now you're defiantly delusional, not even your imagination could stretch that far."

"Try me-" Constance glared at her.

"Hold your tongue Miss Drill." She snapped, the banter stopping short at that. Imogen nodded mumbling maybe that had been to far and gulped down the remainder of her water. Constance exhaled into the awkward silence that followed. But Imogen began toying with the glass, gathering up courage to speak.

"What?"

"sorry I well…" Imogen started as if worried she might get a telling off. "I know you said you wouldn't kiss me but …"

"but?"

"well when you asked if I wanted anything I was just wondering if maybe, honeybear, we could-"

"Imogen, if I'm not kissing you I'm certainly not doing that-!"

"No, no! Not that's not wh-" Constance glared at her again. "Could we cuddle?"

"Cuddle? Why?"

"Please. Or just a hug. Or hand holding. If that's alright? I'll behave. I promise."

Miss Hardbroom thought about it, then nodded and moved her chair closer to the bed allowing Imogen to clamber over to her open arms with a smile and mumbled thank you. How funny it was she could move for a cuddle and not for a run, Constance smirked as the blonde settled herself in her mistress' lap. Another point to wind her up about later. When Imogen was well enough to tease obviously. For now, she just held her.


End file.
